


The Sword in the Stone

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4354280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Writen for the Section 7 Episode challenge.</p><p>In season two’s “The Round Table Affair,” Illya has been detained in the Ingolstein jail for a variety of crimes. To pass the time, he is reading from the Ingolstein Travel Guide to Linda, a woman in Communications. At one point she says, “Oh, Mr. Kuryakin, it sounds so romantic! I wish I were there with you” to which he answers, enthusiastically and without a hint of sarcasm, “So do I, Linda.” The challenge is: Who is Linda and what is she to Illya?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sword in the Stone

I knew he was there even before turning around. “Back from Ingolstein, are you?”

There was a chuckle and I spun around in my chair. Illya was leaning against the door frame, grinning and looking for all the world as if he’d just come back from a vacation as opposed to a thrill-packed, action affair. He straightened and entered.

“Are you sure you want to stay in Communications, Linda? You would make a great agent.”

“And leave all of this?” I gestured to the reel-to-reels that were busy spinning and stopping, spinning and stopping. It was a little like my heart at the moment. I didn’t usually come face-to-face with the agents. They were just voices to me.

He seemed to pick up on something. These guys weren’t agents for nothing.   They knew how to read people and make instant judgments… among other things. He seemed to suddenly remember something.

“I picked up a little something for you.” He held out a slender box to me and I took it slowly. I had never gotten as much as a card from an agent before. For the briefest of moments, I wanted to never open it, just cherish it.

“Illya, that is so sweet.” I carefully lifted the lid, then gasped. Lifting it free of the tissue paper, I held it up. The sword was long and sender, it blade festooned with faux jewels caught the lights and danced. The baes was a chunk of some white rock, also sparkly in the fluorescent lights “It’s lovely… it’s a weapon?”

“A letter opener. They had their own version of a sword in a stone.” He seemed as delighted as I was.

“It’s lovely, Illya. Thank you.” I hesitated and then chanced a fast hug. I knew what they said about agents and touching.

His return hug was equally quick and neutral. “It’s the least I could do for all the company you were to me while I was cooling my heels.”

“You really were in jail, then?” I carefully set the gift, my gift, down on the console. Somehow, it made the whole room warmer or maybe it was just me. Illya was awfully cute.

“Ten by ten by ten.”   He shrugged his shoulders as if being arrested and held as an enemy of the state was a common occurrence… maybe it was to him. “Food was good, although there wasn’t much of it. The cot they provided was more comfortable than some of the beds in hotel rooms and it was quiet.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t mind being in a cell?”

“For what it was worth, no, I didn’t mind at all.”

“And everything came out, okay?”

“The good guys won; the bad guys lost. It was enough for me at the end of the day.”

The door slid open and Napoleon came in. He didn’t look happy. “I thought I’d find you in here. Mr. Waverly needs that report before tonight and I need your help getting it together.”

“In short, you want me to write it so that you can keep your date for tonight.” Illya gave his partner a serious look and then it softened as he turned back to me. “Forgive him, Linda, there wasn’t a fair damsel for him to rescue this time around and it’s made him out of sorts.”

Napoleon gave me a fast smile. “I’m sorry, Linda, but I really do need him for this.”

“I know, a partner is a partner, through and through.” I hugged my gift to my chest. “Thank you, Illya. It’s beautiful.”

“A gift should always reflect the recipient.”

“Oh my aching… Illya!” Napoleon snapped and grabbed Illya by his elbow, dragging him out the door. I should have been angry, but I was too busy contemplating the meaning of Illya’s last sentence. He thought I was beautiful?

                                                                                                ****

It was just after quitting time when I stopped before an unmarked door. It slid upon at my approach and a blond head came up. For a moment, I wasn’t sure that the blue eyes hiding behind the glasses even recognized me. I had been ready to leave for the day when I’d seen Napoleon, a beautiful woman on his arm walking through the parking lot.

Illya had been right. He’d been left behind to work while Napoleon kept his date. At that moment, I’d come to a snap decision.

“Am I interrupting?” I set a covered tray down on a nearby desk. Napoleon’s from the look of it. It was neat as a pin with not even a paperclip out of place. Illya’s looked like a train wreck.

He shook his head and set the folder he’d been studying aside. “I would have to be doing something interesting for you to be interrupting. This is paper shuffling for the sake of paper shuffling. Believe it or not, it’s a large part of our job.” Illya pulled off his glasses and his whole face lit up as I removed the tray’s cover. He inhaled deeply. “You didn’t get that from the canteen.”

“Masque Club.” I gestured to each with a wave of my hand. “Cream of Celery soup, followed by Leg of Lamb Dauphinoise, vegetable du jour, and to finish, Profiterole au Chocolate.”

“I have died and been rescued by an angel.”

“It just struck me as unfair that you were to be stuck here all alone while your partner painted the town.”

“It is his way.

I had Illya’s full attention now. “And to be honest, I’m not all angel, all the time.” I held out a bottle of wine to him and his expression grew sly.

“Even better. I’d much rather a woman with a bit of the devil inside them.” He opened the bottle and poured out two glassfuls of deep red liquid. “So, tell me, Linda, how do you feel about old Arthurian legends?”

I took one and sipped it. “I’m very much in favor of them.”

 

The next morning, all Napoleon would find was some empty dishes, a lipstick stained glass and lots of questions. That’s good because, you see, that’s how legends get started. And that whole touching thing, that’s the silliest legend of all.


End file.
